


you and i, face to face

by skjei



Series: scenes from an italian restaurant [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sort Of, Summer Love, i forgot how to tag sorry, i swear this doesn't go overboard with the angst, my italian restaurant boys are back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 21:59:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18291044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skjei/pseuds/skjei
Summary: Jimmy could spend all of his days like this. Carelessly roaming around the town with Brady, just beingnearhim would be enough. It feels like this could last forever; the lazy mornings, breakfast on the dock, swims in the lake. He knows very well in the back of his mind that this isn’t forever, and that he’ll have to go back to Harvard at some point, but Jimmy just decides not to worry about that right now.





	you and i, face to face

**Author's Note:**

> hi there! it's been a while!
> 
> this is part two of the italian restaurant series 'it all depends upon your appetite'!! please please PLEASE read the first part before this (the second) part!!!!uh anyway this part is much longer then i intended for it to be so enjoy, check tags at the end for more warnings (there is a slight spoiler in the warnings tho, beware!!) ;)
> 
> also just a disclaimer: you should all love yourselves for who you are because you're all amazing and you're you. that's what really matters. :))) <333

Jimmy’s laid out on the blanket, body pressed into Brady’s side and head resting on his shoulder. They’re in some park near the water, and Jimmy can feel the bumpy grass from underneath the thin, soft blanket. Jimmy’s got his eyes closed, partly because of the sun and partly because he doesn’t think he could handle seeing Brady right now.

Jimmy could spend all of his days like this. Carelessly roaming around the town with Brady, just being _near_ him would be enough. It feels like this could last forever; the lazy mornings, breakfast on the dock, swims in the lake. He knows very well in the back of his mind that this isn’t forever, and that he’ll have to go back to Harvard at some point, but Jimmy just decides not to worry about that right now.  

Brady shifts, Jimmy can feel it, and Brady shifts toward him, pressing his nose in Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy shudders slightly, and he can feel Brady’s breath on his skin where his t-shirt sleeve is rolled up. Jimmy opens his eyes and Brady looks up at him with wide eyes.

“S’okay?” Brady asks, his voice small. Jimmy’s heart flips, and it’s still so fucking surreal that he gets to have this.

Jimmy nods. “Yeah,” he breathes, voice soft and barely there. “Perfect.”

He can practically feel Brady smiling against his shoulder, and Jimmy’s breath leaves when he feels Brady press his lips to his skin. It’s _so much_ , being able to do this, after how much Jimmy’s heart hurt for Brady. He can barely even process the little things like this. 

Jimmy feels Brady’s hands touch his chin, then the side of his face, pulling him closer. Jimmy locks his eyes with Brady’s, and Brady’s smiling, pulling Jimmy closer while tilting his own head up.

It’s soft, when Jimmy kisses Brady, and it’s a feeling that Jimmy never wants to give up.

 

 

 

It’s a few days after Jimmy and Brady’s night at the restaurant when Jimmy’s in bed, getting a facetime call from his sister. He hesitates before answering the call, knowing that he’s going to be attacked with a thousand questions and with teenaged girl screaming - but that’s just Karlie.

He answers the call and Karlie’s in her room, on her bed. Jimmy smiles lazily, holding the phone so she can barely see his face.

He sees Karlie bite her lip. “I’m offended you didn’t call me after your date!” she exclaims, and Jimmy rolls his eyes. Karlie leans into the camera.

“Show me your whole face, you idiot!” Jimmy laughs at that but compiles, propping his phone against the alarm clock on his nightstand. Jimmy pretends to be hurt.

“Really feeling the love,” Jimmy grabs is chest, where his heart is, and Karlie scoffs. She’s got some teasing smile on her face and Jimmy knows what’s coming next.

“So you’re not completely depressed, so can I assume that the date went well?” Karlie asks and Jimmy turns bright red and he can practically feel his face burning. He looks down from the camera, at his feet, and he’s got this shit eating grin on his face.

“Yeah,” Jimmy mumbles softly, and he hears Karlie literally _squeal._ He looks up and regrets it. Immediately.

“Jimmy!” Karlie teases loudly and Jimmy scoffs, laughing. He can’t help but wonder whether or not Dad is home, while Karlie’s on this call, and his stress must be a dead giveaway on his because Karlie stops laughing abruptly.

“Wait, what’s wrong?” she asks quickly, and Jimmy shakes his head quickly, tries to tell himself that it’s nothing. Karlie waits patiently for a response.

“It’s nothing, just -” Jimmy can’t look at Karlie. “Is Dad home?”

Karlie’s face falls and turns into a look of sympathy. “No, Jimmy, don’t worry,” she says softly, easily, and Jimmy lets out a breath. It really sucks, how hard this has to be, and he can’t imagine how hard it must be on Karlie. Of course he had to fucking cause that. Jimmy looks at Karlie again, and she’s thinking, he can tell.

“Y’know, Jimmy,” she starts, and Jimmy holds his breath. “I don’t mean to be a burden or whatever, but it’s - you’re going to have to tell Mom and Dad at some point.” Jimmy sighs and he can’t even be mad at Karlie because she’s so _right._ And now that he and Brady - now that he’s got this thing with Brady, it’s all that much harder.

Jimmy rubs his eyes agonizingly. “I know, it’s just -” he pauses, because he hates thinking about this, let alone talking about it. “I actually have _no_ _idea_ how they’ll take it.”

This is a lie. Jimmy’s heard all of the coming out stories. There’s a lot of stress - panic, rather - until you tell your parents and everything is completely fine. They take it well, in pretty much every case Jimmy’s heard of. The think is, Jimmy doesn’t think he’s exaggerating because he _knows_ his parents. He knows their stance, their opinions, the way they take things. Jimmy knows better than anyone how this could go, he’s spent countless hours completely and utterly stressed about how it would go.

Which is why it’s _so much easier_ that only Karlie knows, because she gets it. She’s so easy to talk to, and Jimmy could never - he could _never_ talk to his Dad ever again if he knew.

Jimmy watches Karlie closely. “Yeah, I know,” she says sadly, looking down. It’s quiet, for a moment, when they’re both deep in thought. But it’s not too long until Karlie looks up again, at Jimmy, and she’s smiling again.

She comes a bit closer to camera, leaning her chin on her hand. “So, tell me everything about - what’s his name?”

Jimmy chuckles and it’s like all the stress is gone, when she brings Brady up. “It’s Brady,” Jimmy starts, and he hopes Karlie doesn’t notice how much he lights up when he talks about him.

 

 

 

Later, a couple days later, Brady and Jimmy are in the backyard of the restaurant, sharing the bench overlooking the water. Jimmy’s sitting upright, attempting to work on some stupid history essay (because Harvard is a bitch) and Brady’s got his legs stretched out on Jimmy’s lap. Jimmy tries to focus, but will occasionally look over at Brady and smile, and sometimes Brady will catch him and smile back.

Jimmy decides to ditch the essay, sets it on the grass below him. He sits there for a couple minutes, content at looking at the water. It’s so goddamn pretty, and then he looks at Brady and seemingly thinks the same thing. Sort of. Possibly. Yeah, Brady’s pretty, too.

The call from his sister is like a haze in Jimmy’s head, and he shifts uncomfortably, thinking about it. Brady shifts with im. Jimmy looks over at Brady, and Brady does the same.

“What’s wrong?” Brady asks, voice slightly strained from how he’s sitting. Jimmy’s annoyed at himself for wearing his emotions on his sleeve, but he can’t not talk to Brady because Brady _listens._

Jimmy bites his lip before turning his attention to the view in front of him. “Nothing, it’s just -” he cuts himself off, decides to look back down at Brady. He’s got this worried look on his face, and _fuck,_ Jimmy just needs to tell -

“Do your parents know?” Jimmy blurts out and hates himself for it, because Brady might be strong but this topic is sensitive and you can’t just _ask_ that _._

Brady doesn’t really seem fazed by it, but moves himself upright instead, taking his legs off of Jimmy’s lap. Jimmy watches him closely, scared but expectant for an answer. Brady leans forward, sighs.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, and Jimmy tenses. Brady notices and puts his hand on Jimmy’s knee, and Jimmy could die. He probably could. Brady sighs.  

“When I first - you know. Figured it out,” Brady says, voice calm and collected and Jimmy nods. “I literally could not tell anyone. I couldn’t tell you why, but then it was just - such a huge fucking thing I was holding in and I knew that I couldn’t keep - just - _lying._ To myself and my family.”

Jimmy cannot look at Brady. He feels like an actual asshole because he’s just blind to the fact that the fucking world does not revolve around him and his stupid problems and -

Brady squeezes Jimmy’s knee and Jimmy’s heart hurts. Jimmy thinks he should say something, but doesn’t much want to hear his voice right now. He’s pretty sure Brady figured a couple things out by now: that Jimmy’s fucking scared and that his parents have no clue.

Brady looks at Jimmy. “Y’know it’s fine if you’re not ready, right?” and _god,_ Brady’s voice is _so_ soft, Jimmy could melt. His eyes sting.

Jimmy shakes his head. “I’ve been lying for so _long,”_ he manages, voice cracking and he can practically _hear_ the unshed tears in his voice. He, still, cannot bear to look at Brady’s face when he says that, but it’d be so _easy_ to look right now because Brady’s looking right at him.

Brady rubs his thumb on Jimmy’s knee. “Buddy -”

“How did they take it?” Jimmy blurts out, and if he wasn’t stupid before he’s beyond stupid now. Brady tenses - for a minute - and Jimmy _hates_ himself.

“I’m not - It was -” Brady sighs, defeated. “My mom was fine. Quiet, but fine.” Jimmy nods, waits for Brady to go on and doesn’t make a peep. Brady fumbles with his fingers.

“My dad was - surprised. One fucking way to put it,” Brady tries to laugh, and it’s strained. Jimmy places his hand on top of Brady’s, still laid on his knee. Brady looks at Jimmy, really looks.

“It’s really okay to not be ready, Jimmy,” Brady says _again_ and Jimmy shivers when he hears his name slip from Brady’s lips. Like - Jimmy knows deep down that Brady’s right, and that he needs to just calm down, take a breath. Jimmy doesn’t.  

“That’s not fair to you, though,”Jimmy squeaks and his voice is so fucking small and he fucking the _hates_ it. He hates himself, and he barely remembers that Brady’s there, next to him, until he feels Brady’s arm wrap around him and they’re hugging, and Jimmy could very well burst into tears. He buries his face into Brady’s neck and he can’t seem to care about himself. Maybe Brady does.

“You’re okay,” Brady whispers into Jimmy’s ear. “It’s okay.”

Jimmy really wants to believe that it is.

 

 

 

Jimmy decides he can’t decipher his feelings in the middle of the night.

Nothing in regards to Brady, like - Jimmy has _those_ feelings figured out. It’s just - the waking up in the morning with a spring in his step, when he thinks about Brady, and then deflating when he sits at the table and his mom asks about ‘the girls here’. He’ll simply dismiss the conversation and end up leaving to see Brady earlier. It’s terrifying, really, how much he relies on Brady. How many times Jimmy crumples up beside and Brady has to unfold, unfold, unfold. There’s so many things going on inside Jimmy’s head and all he wants to say is _thank you for putting up with me._

The thing is, Jimmy wants to be able to handle it all.

He spent all of high school, the first year of college with seemingly the same amount of stress. If you’d call it that. Karlie knew after junior year of high school, but - Jimmy can’t talk to Karlie about it. He loves her to death but she doesn’t _get it._

So it’s so much, when Brady comforts him, because he’s never been treated like that before and maybe that’s what kills Jimmy - Brady is Jimmy’s whole fucking world, his universe, and he’s hiding that and it’s _killing_ him. It’s what Jimmy’s accustomed to; that horrible gut feeling of guilt and doing something wrong.

Jimmy’s been hiding his whole life, so hiding Brady doesn’t seem like the worst thing. It doesn’t _seem_ like it, but it’s really the worst thing of all. Because Brady deserves absolutely _everything._ Brady is without a doubt the greatest person Jimmy’s met, and it - it all seems too good to be true. That’s what Jimmy doesn’t understand - why Brady wants _him,_ him and all his fucked up feelings and irrational anxiety. He just wants Brady to see the prettiest version of himself - the non fucked up part, the _brave_ part.

It’s all this devaluing of himself that ends up tiring Jimmy out, buries his face in his pillow and takes his thoughts with him.

 

 

 

Jimmy wakes up to his ringtone, before the sun is even out. It’s definitely not the best way to wake up in the morning.

He turns to his bedside table, and his face falls when he sees that it’s his dad’s name on the screen. Jimmy’s mind immediately flees to bad thoughts, the biggest one nagging him a little bit more. Like, there’s not way Jimmy’s dad could have found out, but - Jimmy’s a worrier.

Jimmy takes a breath before accepting the call. “Hello?” he croaks, and it’s barely audible since it’s the first word he’s spoken all day. He hears his dad’s breathing on the other end of the line.

“Did you just wake up, Jim?” his dad asks and Jimmy cringes. He’s so tempted to hang up the phone right now, but he’s too much of a coward.

“Yeah, sorry,” Jimmy replies, rubbing his eyes and his dad sighs.

Jimmy’s hears him clear his throat. “Have you heard from your agent, Jim?” he asks and Jimmy wants to fucking kill him over the phone. It’s fucking five in the morning and Jimmy’s not even 20 yet and his dad is asking about his fucking draft agent.

Jimmy falters. “Ah - no,” he utters, lamely, and he can almost _feel_ his dad breathing down his neck and it’s not an unfamiliar feeling. Jimmy cripples under pressure, and the largest source ever since he picked up a hockey stick was his dad.

“You’ve got to think about this. Nashville wants you to play for them, and you should go pro right away. Then you can get yourself a nice girlfriend,” Jimmy clenches his fist because his own fucking _dad_ has no idea what Jimmy wants. He doesn’t even _know_ Jimmy, let alone -

“I’m not even a sophomore yet! I don’t need to think about this now!” Jimmy snaps back before he realizes what he’s doing. He’s so fucking tempted to hang up the phone right now. He doesn’t have to be in the same part of the country as his dad to know what he looks like, how he’s feeling.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that, Jim,” his dad’s voice seems closer now, and Jimmy could actually start crying. “You don’t know what you want, so I’m telling you.”

Jimmy fights the urge to throw his phone. “I _know_ what I want _,”_ Jimmy’s voice trembles on the phone before he hangs up and everything is a _lie._ Jimmy has absolutely no fucking _clue_ what he wants to do - with hockey, with his life, he just - he can’t be here _._

He can’t even be bothered to change out of his sweatpants and a t-shirt, only steps into his sandals and starts walking - running, pretty much. He ignores a call from upstairs - from his mom - and opens the front door and starts texting.

 **jimmy**  
Can you please pick me up  


Jimmy leaves it at that because he really can’t text anything else, and he immediately hates himself for texting Brady. Brady deserves to have nothing to do with this, and Jimmy’s just dragging him in like the burden that he is -

 **brady**  
yeah jimmy where are u  


Jimmy looks around and he’s getting closer to the lake, hadn’t even noticed that he’d worked his way down the block. He looks over to the red sun peeking over the water, over the dock. Jimmy’s gaze drops to his phone.

 **brady**  
jimmy  


**brady**  
buddy  


**brady**  
i need to know where u are  


Jimmy rubs his eyes agonizingly, thinks about not texting back as he looks over to the water. God, he hates himself so _much._

 **jimmy**  
dock  


Jimmy regrets his decision because he doesn’t think he can bear to see Brady right now. His feet take him over to the sand, bordering the dock, and he collapses to his knees because the weight of his mind is weighing him so far down. Thoughts and words from his dad fill his mind until his own thoughts are occupying the extra space and somehow it’s _so much worse._

The sand is soft, the breeze from the water feels cold on Jimmy’s skin and Jimmy can’t breathe.

It’s always been like this, really.

It’s not completely Jimmy’s dad, he supposes. Yeah, his attitude doesn’t fucking help, but it’s not - it’s Jimmy’s fault, too. He’s never been good at handling high pressure situations - whether it was hockey, family, or just life. Jimmy deteriorates when attacked with this pressure, it’s almost like - it’s almost like a force, pushing down on Jimmy, limiting him from going and further and doing pretty much anything. He likes to keep it to himself because no one can tell him otherwise, no one can sympathize. He also - Jimmy doesn’t want to drag people down with him. He’s always been independent, if that’s the word you even fucking use.

Jimmy runs his fingers through the sand and feels. He doesn’t want to feel.

And Jimmy knows, he knows that it’s not okay to think that way. He’s been told thousands of times - by a doctor, his sister, even fucking Haysie, but - Jimmy isn’t fixed easily. He hears a car rumbling from behind him and he knows it’s Brady, yet he can’t seem to find comfort in that. It’s not the first time he’s been found like this.

Jimmy sucks in a breath and it hurts, almost, and then he feels arms around wrap around his shoulder and he exhales.

 

 

 

He’s spending more nights at Brady’s house than his own, Jimmy is, and it’s almost comforting. Almost.

Jimmy’s not going to lie, he loves waking up in the morning engulfed under the cover sheets of Brady’s bed. The early mornings, where he’ll wake up beside Brady, head pressed against his shoulder. He forgets, for a little while, which is probably a good thing.

They’re walking to the restaurant one day in July, and they’re quiet. Not for any particular reason, just - quiet.

Jimmy shoves his hands into his shorts pocket. “Am I, like -” Jimmy cuts himself off, sees Brady turn to him. Jimmy can’t seem to get his words out. He feels like an idiot.

“Are you what, buddy?” Brady asks, softly, and Jimmy shifts. It shouldn’t be this hard, talking to Brady. He doesn’t like getting to this point.

“Like - intruding. On you in your parents,” Jimmy says, ignoring the thought that he’s never even seen Brady’s parents. Brady’s eyebrows are drawn together. “At your house,” Jimmy clarifies. Brady’s got a small smile on his face and Jimmy could die.

“You’re not intruding, Jimmy, and - my parents don’t even come here in the summer,” Brady laughs a little, and Jimmy can’t help but chuckle with him. He runs a hand through his hair, flustered.

“Yeah, that - would make sense, yeah,” Jimmy smiles through his words, and Brady laughs again and - it’s small, light, but it makes Jimmy’s heart lurch and he knows he’s in too deep.

“Y’know, speaking of -” Brady stops and Jimmy’s looking at him, curious. “Speaking of my parents, actually,” Brady doesn’t continue from there, not right away, and Jimmy’s blood runs cold because he already has a pretty good idea of where this is going.

Brady bites his lip. “I’d like to tell them. About us, I mean,” he finishes and Jimmy’s mouth is dry. He doesn’t know what to say, mostly because - Jimmy’s parents don’t even _know._ They had absolutely no fucking clue that Jimmy’s gay and Brady’s ready to tell his parents -

“I - I,” Jimmy stutters, mostly because he just hates the silence between them. Brady looks down before glancing back over to Jimmy. He waits for a response, and Jimmy tries to make sense of his stupid thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy just says, because he doesn’t know how else to answer. He finally looks, looks at Brady, and he’s just got this sad smile on his face. It makes Jimmy melt, practically.

“Don’t be sorry, Jimmy, alright? It’s fine,” Brady nudges at Jimmy’s hand, in his pocket, and Jimmy pulls it out and Brady intertwines their fingers.

Jimmy’s about to apologize again when Brady speaks again. “Just tell me when you’re ready, okay?” Jimmy sighs, squeezes Brady’s fingers and Brady squeezes back.

“Yeah, okay,” Jimmy breathes, and his chest feels tight when Brady gives him a smile.

“Okay,” Brady says, and Jimmy wishes it was.

Jimmy thinks about it a lot that day. About Brady’s parents knowing. He thinks about it when he’s stacking menus, setting tables, when he’s test-eating a piece of freshly baked garlic bread. He thinks about meeting Brady’s parents, seeing them smile and treat him like a good person. Because Jimmy is a good person, he knows deep down, just doesn’t think it most of the time.

Mostly, he just thinks about how happy Brady would be, and Jimmy would literally do anything for Brady, to make him happy.

But it’s also - Jimmy can’t come out to him parents, not yet. He figures that this is the next step he should take.

Brady’s standing behind the front counter, on the phone, presumably noting a new reservation for tonight. Jimmy walks over to him, slowly, and leans on the counter, close to Brady. Brady’s focused as he writes, his tongue slightly out between his bottom and top lip. Jimmy walks behind Brady, easily slide his arms around his waist, pulling Brady close. Brady sinks into, doesn’t try in the slightest to fight it.

Brady drops his pen. “Alright, thanks so much sir, we’ll see you tonight -” and Brady’s hanging up the phone as soon as he possibly can, shifting himself so he can look see Jimmy.

“Hello,” Brady laughs and Jimmy can’t help but laugh with him. Brady’s grinning, right at Jimmy, and Jimmy feels different. He’s never been this forward, really, but it feels nice. It’s a good change.

“Hi,” Jimmy chuckles and his voice is breathy, deep, and he can’t quite put his finger on his own tone. Brady looks at him, smiling, and their faces are close now.

“I think you should -” Jimmy takes a breath, and Brady just waits. “I think you should tell your parents.”

Brady raises his eyebrows but it’s not - it’s not bad. He’s grinning, and Jimmy is able to actually breathe.

“Tell them about us,” he whispers, almost, even though he’s got the idea that Brady knows exactly what he’s referring to. Jimmy feels Brady grab one of his hands, pulls it away from his hips. Brady holds it, with one hand, and his other reaches up to Jimmy’s Harvard hat, flips it backward. Jimmy’s face is burning, with Brady so close. Before Jimmy can move, or even blink, Brady’s kissing him sweetly and all Jimmy can do is let himself be kissed. They jerk apart suddenly when Mario bangs on the door of the kitchen, and he’s looking at both Jimmy and Brady with this teasing grin on his face.

Brady’s bright red and smiling. He looks to Jimmy again. “Thank you,” he says earnestly, and Jimmy nods. Brady starts walking toward the kitchen backwards, staring at Jimmy, and he’s still smiling. He mouths _“thank you”_ a second time, and Jimmy fights a grin, and he nods once more. Brady turns quickly, but trips on a chair as he does. Jimmy tries not to burst into complete laughter, and Brady just shakes his head at him.

Jimmy leans on the counter, when Brady’s gone, and he thinks about how gone he is on _him._

 

 

 

Later that night, after closing, Jimmy walks toward the car with Mario, but Brady stays behind. He looks at Brady, then Mario, puzzled. Mario holds his hand up to his ear, simulating a phone.

“He’s got phone call,” Mario says, and Jimmy looks back over to Brady and Brady gives him a warm smile. Jimmy smiles back and hopes that it’s not strained at all. Jimmy feels a tap on his shoulder and it’s Mario.

“I can drive you home,” he says, and all Jimmy can do is just nod and make his way toward the car. When he looks back toward Brady, he’s holding the phone up to his ear and that alone is enough to ignite his anxiety, so he looks away. Mario starts the car, and it’s so loud that Jimmy can barely hear himself think, which is - kind of nice, actually.

Mario starts driving, and he taps on the steering wheel. “So, do you have people who know about you?” and the question is so abrupt that Jimmy is a bit taken aback at first. It’s easy to figure out what Mario means and Jimmy just - really cannot get away from this conversation. Which is expected. Jimmy shifts, slightly uncomfortable.

“Uh - my sister, she knows. No one else,” Jimmy admits, and it’s sad, hearing that because it’s been that way for so _long._

“You love him, no?” Mario asks simply and Jimmy chokes on the fucking oxygen. Because why does Mario get to _ask that._

It’s an easy answer, and Mario’s too good of a person to not know -

“I - I - yes,” Jimmy mumbles, and he feels his shoulders relax. It’s a really new feeling, having this type of conversation with someone other than Karlie or Brady. It’s - it’s a good feeling, Jimmy decides. Not that he’s actually, like, gone up and confessed his love to Brady, because he most certainly hasn’t. It’s just - it’s a good feeling to have other people know, care. They’re close to Jimmy’s house when Mario speaks up again.

“If you really love him, the people who matter most won’t care,” he says, stopping the car with a jolt. Jimmy keeps the words in his brain and he wants is to agree with them. He nods, at his lap and then at Mario.

“Thanks,” Jimmy says, and he means it. Mario gives him a smile in which his eyes crinkle, and with that, Jimmy gets out of the car. He drags himself along the cobblestone pathway, ignores the single light gleaming through the kitchen window. He hopes to ignore his mother, but Jimmy’s not sure if things will go as planned.

Jimmy makes it through the door quietly and he scurries up the stairs, careful not to step on any cracks in the floor. Jimmy tries not to slam the door, when he gets into his room. He flops onto his bed, pulling his phone out and finding three missed calls from Brady. He quickly clicks on his number and lifts the phone up to his ear.

Brady answers on the third ring. “Hey,” he says, and his voice sounds soft but close. Jimmy holds back a yawn.

“Hi,” he says, trying to match Brady’s tone as best he can, but the lingering thought about how his parents know just - lingers.

Brady pretty much reads his mind. “I told them,” he says, simply, and Jimmy lets out a breath. He hates that it’s this hard for him. Brady’s parents haven’t even _met_ him, but clearly this doesn’t prohibit Jimmy’s anxiety from just. Freaking out.

Jimmy nods into the phone before he realizes Brady can’t see him. His pause is longer than he intends.

“It went well,” Brady says, breaking the silence and Jimmy sighs. He’s relieved, even though these are Brady’s parents and not - not his own.

“That’s good,” Jimmy says quietly, mostly because the silence is too loud. He hears Brady shuffle on the other side of the line.

“Yeah, it’s good,” Brady echoes. “They want to meet you.”

Jimmy’s face reddens and his heart swells. “Really?” his voice cracks, because he doesn’t want to believe it. He hears a breathy chuckles come from Brady.

“Yeah, buddy, they really do,” Brady’s voice is too teasing, and Jimmy’s grinning, now. Jimmy wants to say so many things, right here, now, on the phone. Just a simple fucking _thank you._

Instead, Brady speaks. “Thank you,” he says, and Jimmy furrows his eyebrows, when he looks up at the ceiling because why the _fuck_ is Brady thankful. Jimmy lays back down.

“For what?” is all Jimmy comes up to respond with.

“For letting me do this - tell them,” Brady replies, his tone soft and easy. Jimmy just - Jimmy just finds that really fucking _stupid,_ because Jimmy should be thanking him for - for a lot of things.

“No, I - thank _you,”_ Jimmy has to say. “Thank you. For putting up with this.” Jimmy doesn’t realize how vague he’s being, but it’s - it’s what he’s needed to say this whole time. He neglects saying _thank you for putting up with me._

It’s a step in the right direction.

 

 

 

Jimmy doesn’t know what time he falls asleep that night, or how long he’s talking to Brady, but he’s awoken to knocking on his door the next morning. He shoots up from underneath the covers, when his mom walks in.

His mom flicks on the light. “Can we talk?” she asks, loudly, and Jimmy falters. He rubs his eyes because he truly is not awake enough. For any of this.

“Mom, what time is -”

“Can we just talk, Jimmy?” his mother cuts him off, and that’s enough to shut Jimmy enough, for sure. He watches as his mom takes a deep breath, and Jimmy’s not sure if he has to be the one to. Like. Initiate the conversation.

“Just - why do you keep coming home past ten?” his mom starts, and Jimmy’s a bit relieved that this is the topic of conversation and not - other things. Still, he has no idea how to reply without bringing up Brady.

“I - I,” Jimmy stutters, mostly because he needs to put some kind of effort into talking. He looks at his mom, who has her arms crossed, but it’s not mad. She looks - sad, almost. This is when Jimmy realizes something.

He loves him mom. That’s definitely not the realization, it’s just that - Jimmy is lying to her. He’s keeping something from her that’s pretty much the biggest thing he _could_ keep from her.

This is also when Jimmy makes a decision.

His mom is still there, waiting for an answer, and now Jimmy’s hands are shaking, and he’s holding onto his comforter as hard as he can. His voice decides to stop working there, pretty much.

His mom sighs. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just wondering where you’re spending the whole _day,”_ Jimmy nods, closes his eyes hard, opens them and he’s still there.

Jimmy decides it’s now or never. Or whatever. “I’m - seeing someone,” he says, so quietly and his mom’s eyes light up and it _hurts,_ how excited she is.

“Jimmy, that’s - that’s really good,” she says, and Jimmy avoids his mom’s gaze. It’s nearly impossible to look her in the eye right now. Jimmy can feel this weight pushing down on him now more than ever, and all he wants is for the weight to be fucking lifted. He’s so god damn close. He just nods, deciding to not verbally add on.

“What’s her name?” she asks, voice curious and hopeful, and Jimmy cringes. He decides to finally look at his mom and he regrets it, because her smile is so bright and he _hates_ this.

“H - his name is Brady,” Jimmy says, his voice so small, and he can’t miss the way the corner’s of his mom’s mouth slowly drop. He wants to curl up into a ball and never look at his mother again.

When his mom doesn’t speak at first, Jimmy decides to kill the silence. “I’m gay, mom,” he mumbles, almost, and he deflates, looks away. He hears footsteps and then his mom is sitting on his bed, next to him. Jimmy decides to just - to glance at her, and she’s about to speak but Jimmy doesn’t know if he wants her to speak.

“I just - I want you to think that it’s - okay, and - “

“Oh, Jimmy,” his mom cuts him off. Her voice wavers slightly. “Of course it’s okay.”

Jimmy sniffles, wet, and he swallows his tears because he doesn’t think that he can handle this. But he’s _here,_ the world didn’t fucking _end,_ and his mom _knows._ Jimmy realizes that he hasn’t actually said anything, and his mom lays her hand on Jimmy’s knee.

“C’mere,” she says, and Jimmy does, wraps his arm around his mom tightly, and nothing could feel better. Jimmy doesn’t know how long their hugging when he slowly pulls back, and he’s definitely going to start crying, if he’s not careful. He glances out the window, and he decides that he wants to go outside. Because why not.

“I’m gonna go for a walk, I think,” Jimmy says, voice cracking. His mom nods, getting off of Jimmy’s bed and heading towards the door. She turns her head, before she walks out of Jimmy’s room.

“I’d really like to meet him,” is what his mom says before walking out of the room, and that sends Jimmy’s heart soaring.

 

 

 

When Jimmy leaves, he truly doesn’t mean to end up at Brady’s house, but he does.

He knocks on the door, half paying attention to what he’s doing with a thousand little thoughts rushing through his head. Brady answers the door, and he’s got this soft smile of his face. Jimmy’s heart hurts, when he thinks about what he wants.

“Hey,” Brady says, and Jimmy realizes he’s still wearing the clothes he slept in. “I tried calling you earlier, and you didn’t answer,” Brady adds, and Jimmy bites his lip.

“S-sorry, I didn’t have my phone on me, and -”

“It’s okay, Jimmy,” Brady interrupts, his tone hinting laughter, and Brady looks at Jimmy for a couple of moments, not enough for it to be awkward. “Are you okay?” Jimmy’s nervously fumbling with his fingers at his sides, and he’s never felt this eager before.

“Yeah, just - can I come inside?” Jimmy asks, dumb, mostly because he knows the answer already. Brady nods, simply, opens the door wider for Jimmy to come in. Brady shuts the door behind him, and the house feels so empty.

Brady looks at Jimmy again, and his gaze is so fixated on him. “Jimmy, are you -”

Jimmy cuts Brady off by kissing him, and Brady’s words don’t matter anymore because he’s kissing back, and _god,_ it’s so easy to want. Jimmy’s so out of breath but never wants to stop. Brady brings his hand up to Jimmy’s face, and Jimmy curls his hand into Brady’s side. They pull away after what seems like hours, and Jimmy looks at Brady’s lips, red and wet from kissing. Brady’s chest is rising and falling quickly, and their faces are so close.

Jimmy holds Brady’s side. “I told my mom,” he says, voice bordering a whisper, and Brady’s eyes immediately widen. Jimmy blinks and he’s grinning.

“You told her -”

“I told her everything,” Jimmy says, and he doesn’t know how he got so out of breath, all of a sudden. The looks on Brady’s face is almost too much for Jimmy, and he can feel his heartbeat practically everywhere he pays attention to.

“Even about us?” Brady asks, voice smaller, and Jimmy has to smile, when Brady says ‘us’. Jimmy nods, Brady’s smile grows even wider than before.

“Even about us,” Jimmy repeats, and it’s kind of crazy, that he gets to say that now. Brady leans forward, and their foreheads are touching, and Jimmy can feel Brady’s breath hitting his face.

“Fuck, Jimmy,” Brady mumbles before pressing his lips against Jimmy’s, and this time it’s so much _more._ Jimmy leans into the kiss, feels Brady’s hands on his face. He grips Brady’s sides, and really can’t do more than let himself be kissed. Brady pulls away slightly, and Jimmy wants to protest until he feels Brady’s lips below his lips, on his jaw, then down further by his neck. He bites his lip and squirms, presses himself against Brady and Brady makes a noise into his mouth. Then Brady’s pulling away, and Jimmy can hardly stand it.

“Bed?” Brady breathes, and all Jimmy can do is nod. Brady takes Jimmy’s hand and leads them to Brady’s room, and they sit next to each other on Brady’s bed. Brady lays his hand against Jimmy’s jaw, and Jimmy closes his eyes. He can’t even see when Brady kisses him again, his whole body feels so out of it, when Brady presses into Jimmy more.

Brady positions Jimmy on his back, and Brady’s over him, and Jimmy feels his breath coming in pants. Brady pulls away for a few moments, only to take his t-shirt, and Jimmy tries to do the same, from the position he’s in. When he does, Brady leans forward, presses their foreheads together before kissing Jimmy so, so sweetly. Jimmy could melt. It’s quite possible that he is melting.

Brady moves his kisses down, down to Jimmy’s jaw, his neck, his shoulders, his chest, as far down as he can reach. Jimmy’s body is on fire, and his jeans are too much, now.

Jimmy pulls away from Brady’s lips with an embarrassing smack, and Jimmy feels so flushed. Brady looks at him, gently, and Jimmy says: “Can we,” and he hooks a fingers into the pocket of Brady’s jeans. Brady nods, which is probably good, considering Jimmy doesn’t quite want to partake in conversation right about now.

Clothes are scattered on the floor, when Brady leans in again, but he leaves these barely there kisses down his body, and Jimmy holds back a noise when Brady kisses the skin just above his thighs.

Brady lays his hand on Jimmy’s hip. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, and it’s almost too much for Jimmy, hearing Brady say something like that. He links their fingers together, on Jimmy’s hip, and Jimmy holds back a noise when Brady kisses the inside of his thigh. He’s never felt this close to anyone before, and he squeezes Brady’s hand when he feels his lips again. Jimmy tilts his head back and his grip on Jimmy’s hand is so tight, mostly because there’s no way that this can feel this good.

“Brady,” Jimmy has to say, when Brady brings his hand to Jimmy’s dick. Brady’s head is leaned against Jimmy’s thigh, and he’s lying between Jimmy’s legs, spread out. Jimmy feels Brady hand, and then he feels his lips, and he’s shaking so much that Brady can feel it, probably. Brady kisses his again, and he’s so close.

“I got you,” Brady says, and he does.

 

 

 

When all is said in done, Jimmy’s got no idea what time it is, but he’s really not overly concerned about it. His head is pressed against Brady’s chest, and he can’t really see his face, only feeling each steady breath Brady takes. Jimmy kisses Brady’s chest, because he’s there, and he feels Brady turn closer to him, wraps his arms around Jimmy’s body. Jimmy feels so warm, safe.

“I love you,” he mumbles, and he doesn’t realize what the fuck he’s saying, not until Brady kisses his forehead, and panic mode is switched on. He’s about to say something before Brady lays his hand on his face, positions it up so they can look at each other.

“I love _you_ ,” Brady says, and it’s so genuine that Jimmy can’t help but smile like a complete idiot. He curls into Brady’s body, content.

“So much,” Brady whispers, and Jimmy’s so overwhelmed with different thoughts about the past couple of hours, that it’s hard to even absorb.

But really, he’d choose to never go back to Boston in a second if it meant that he could love someone like this, and that someone could truly love him back.     

**Author's Note:**

> \- anxiety plays a large role in this fic so if you don't like that then i wouldn't read this!  
> \- also toward the end there is sexual content that's not quite explicit but i just thought that i should include this warning because i only have the fic tagged as mature!! but it's really not too bad don't worry :)


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